


I’d give anything to be you

by hotcocoa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Karasuno Match, Pre-Relationship, Swearing, they swear a lot sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotcocoa/pseuds/hotcocoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba and Kyoutani don't deal with the loss very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’d give anything to be you

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT but then this happened so now you get a healthy dose of suffering, enjoy.

Yahaba was the first to reach the locker room. He slammed his fist against his locker, hard, and pretended the tears welling up in his eyes were from that. The truth was, he didn’t feel it at all.

They had lost. _Oikawa_ had lost. Oikawa, his mentor and, Yahaba dared to sometimes think, his friend, whose only dream was to beat Ushijima and go to nationals, who had done so much for him and Yahaba couldn’t even _try_. He couldn’t even try to return the favor, to do something for him, to help make that dream become a reality. All he could do was stand there and watch, watch as that dream came crashing down, and it was honestly pathetic. _How does he think I can possibly be captain—_

Yahaba stiffened as he felt more than heard someone come up behind him. Standing too close. Radiating the same anger that Yahaba was pouring inward.

“What the fuck do you want, Kyoutani?”

He was greeted with silence. Yahaba gritted his teeth and pushed himself away from the locker to spin around and glare down at Kyoutani.

“What the fuck do you _want?_ ”

Kyoutani chose to just glare back at him, still saying nothing. Yahaba allowed this to continue for less than a minute before he got fed up and shoved past Kyoutani to head to the showers.

“I fucking knew it,” Kyoutani muttered under his breath. Yahaba froze and turned slowly back around to face him, his gaze pure ice.

“Knew _what_ , Kyoutani?” he bit out.

“That you don’t care,” Kyoutani replied, taking his turn to shove his way past Yahaba. “You never cared, you just wanted to piss me off—”

Yahaba grabbed his arm and snarled. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I _said_ ,” Kyoutani replied, shaking Yahaba’s arm off, “that you don’t care, about this team or about our senpais—”

Before Yahaba knew what had happened, Kyoutani was shoved up against the wall with Yahaba’s arm braced roughly over his chest. “How dare you,” he said in a low voice that was more dangerous than he had ever heard himself.

Kyoutani snorted. “You said you’d never forgive me for fucking things up for them, but I don’t see you hitting me,” he said sourly. “You’re not even yelling, so I guess it was just all talk—”

“You asshole, there’s nothing to forgive you for!” Yahaba was definitely yelling now as he pushed off of Kyoutani, who was staring at him in confusion. When Yahaba spoke again, it was softer. “You played well.”

Kyoutani’s look of confusion morphed into one of rage and maybe something else as he lunged at Yahaba and reversed their positions, shoving him painfully into the lockers and shaking him for good measure. “I don’t care if you’re pissed off at me, but don’t fucking mock me!” he yelled angrily. “At least I was out on the court—”

“Yeah, you fucking were!” Yahaba cut him off, and shit, he couldn’t cry, not here, not now, not in front of _Kyoutani_. “At least you were out on the court, working your ass off, giving them a fighting chance, while I did _nothing!_ Nothing!” And his voice definitely didn’t crack, and the wetness on his cheeks definitely weren’t tears, he definitely wasn’t—

Kyoutani scoffed. “At least you didn’t do anything to make things worse.” His scowl was deep and dark. “If I hadn’t hit so many balls out of bounds— _fuck_ , if I could’ve just played better—”

Yahaba laughed bitterly. He thought about Kyoutani’s strength, his skill, everything he had that allowed him to be out there on the court, supporting their seniors— “I’d give anything to be you,” he said lowly.

Kyoutai’s eyes widened for a moment before the scowl settled back onto his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he spat. “Everyone knows you’re some kind of fucking golden boy, Oikawa’s protégé, hell, you’re already set to be captain, everyone wants to be _you_ —”

Yahaba laughed the same, empty laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively as he headed to the back of the locker room. “See how you like everyone constantly looking at you with pity, the ‘ _golden boy_ ’ who can’t even play in games and will _never_ live up to—”

“Don’t.” Yahaba spun around to see Kyoutani disappearing through the locker room door, closing it behind him with a slam.

Yahaba took a shower and pretended it was only water running down his face.

 


End file.
